


All I See is Red

by khacheesi



Category: Jurassic World Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Post-Canon, Post-Jurassic World, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 07:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16090964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khacheesi/pseuds/khacheesi
Summary: Following the events of Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom, Claire and Owen face the consequences of taking an orphan clone into their care.Or, Maisie ships Clawen just as much as we do.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first fic on ao3 and also the first fic I've written in like 4 years. A bit out of practice... feedback is welcome!

Claire stood on the sprawling front steps of the Lockwood manor in a state of utter shock. It was hard to even comprehend everything that had happened in the past 48 hours, let alone determine how she was feeling about the strange series of events. Instead she focused on what she  _could_  feel, the sharp pain in her right thigh that only seemed to worsen by the minute. A stark reminder that she had nearly been torn to shreds only hours earlier. Her mind flashed back to the razor sharp teeth, gnashing mere feet from her face. And the sound of a little girl’s scream that had drawn the monster’s attention away from her. Away from what would have likely been her demise.

_Maisie_

Claire glanced down at the mess of dark hair tucked tightly against her side, with arms clasped around her waist. She could feel the little girl’s small frame tremble against hers, her breathing still not returned to a normal pace since the events of the evening. Claire’s heart broke for her as she thought about the long road to recovery ahead. Ahead of all of them really, because  _fuck, it happened again_. But in that moment, she felt for Maisie.

For Claire, the infamous day Jurassic World fell had led to countless nights waking up screaming and drenched in sweat, panic attacks, jumping in fear at the slightest rustling in the bushes, not to mention the intense feelings of guilt and regret she carried with her to this day. Recovering from what had happened more than three years ago was unimaginably difficult for Claire, and she was an  _adult_. Maisie was just a little girl. A little girl who shouldn’t have had to run from a dinosaur trying to devour her. Or lose the only family she had. Or find out that her entire existence...wasn’t what she thought it was. Was this night something she would even recover from at all? Claire sighed. She reached for a tear slowly trickling down Maisie’s cheek, gently wiping it away with her thumb.  _She will_ , Claire told herself.  _We’ll help her._  
  
And just like that, she and Owen had become a “we” again.

Claire turned her focus to Owen, who stood with his back to her in the driveway, near a police car and two officers. She watched as he shifted his weight nervously, something he always used to do when he wasn’t being completely honest with her. He was probably telling them he had no idea how the dinosaurs had escaped the underground lab below the mansion, or that the lab even existed. She hoped they were believing him. Claire bit her bottom lip, knowing she would be questioned next. She had hoped they could have gotten away from the estate before authorities arrived, but someone reported a large stampede of dinosaurs running through a nearby residential area, and it wasn’t difficult to trace where they had come from.

Claire looked around nervously. So far it seemed the police were focusing their attention on the lab and the Indoraptor’s path of destruction, but Lockwood’s body had to be somewhere inside the great mansion and she knew it was only a matter of time before it was discovered.

Just then Owen turned to look over his shoulder, his gaze meeting Claire’s. Silently she told him they had to get out of there. She definitely didn’t want Maisie to be around when her grandfather was found and brought out. 

“Are we done here?” she heard Owen ask the police officers. “My daughter has had a really rough night and I’d like to get her home.”

Claire’s heart skipped a beat.  _Daughter_. She felt a fluttering inside her stomach as she thought about the implications.  _Did we just become parents_? Claire’s mind was racing, and she couldn’t help but think back to the last time she had been left in charge of children. Her nephews had almost died in her care, and not a day went by she didn’t think about that.

Claire knew Maisie had no one. And did she really think she and Owen would simply drop her off at the police station and let them sort out what would become of her? Of course not. But she also didn’t quite think through what it meant when they had silently agreed to protect Maisie from Eli Mills. A moment later Owen interrupted her thoughts.

“They said we’re done for the night.” He was standing next to her now. Claire breathed a sigh of relief. “They want to get your statement tomorrow, though” he added.

“That’s fine,” Claire said, willing to agree to almost anything if it got her closer to a hot shower and a warm bed. “For now we just need to get the hell out of here.”  

“Where do you wanna go?” Owen asked. He was falling back into their old pattern of letting her make the plans. And that wasn’t lost on her.

She pursed her lips, thinking a moment. Her loft in San Francisco was almost three hours away, too far after the day they’d had.

“Let’s crash somewhere close so we can get some rest,” she suggested. Owen nodded. “Figure things out in the morning.” She watched as Owen shifted his gaze to the little girl, still clung tightly to her.

“Does that sound okay Maisie?” Owen asked in a gentle tone. He dropped down to one knee to speak to her at eye level. “Find some place safe and get some sleep?” 

Maisie had finally let go of Claire’s middle. She nodded her agreement, her eyes and cheeks red from the nearly constant flow of tears. Without warning, the little girl threw her arms around Owen.

“Everything's gonna be okay,” he assured her, gently swinging her onto his left hip as he stood. Claire could sense his uncertainty. Nothing was okay, except that they had their lives. But tonight, that had to be enough. There were dinosaurs roaming further and further across the state with each passing minute, and an orphan clone left in their care. But those were tomorrow’s problems.  

It didn’t take them long to find a car - Lockwood had several, and he kept each set of keys hung on tiny hooks on a wall in the garage.   
  
They’d been driving for maybe ten minutes when Claire heard Maisie’s deep, even breathing from the back seat.

“She’s asleep,” Claire said softly, breathing a small sigh of relief.  

Owen nodded. “How are you holding up?”  
  
“I’m okay,” Claire answered. But when she really thought about it, her mind was racing and her leg ached. She shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat, inadvertently bumping the open wound against the car door. She bit her lip hard to keep from crying out. 

“We need to get that looked at,” Owen said seriously, eyeing the deep gouge the indoraptor had left in her thigh.   
  
“I know,” Claire managed through gritted teeth, still reeling from the pain. But she was way too exhausted to sit in an emergency room for four hours. “Tomorrow,” she promised. She flicked her gaze to Owen. It was evident even in the dark that he didn’t like that idea. He opened his mouth, probably to protest, but decided against whatever he had planned to say.  
  
“When we get somewhere, will you at least let me clean it?” he finally relented.  
  
Claire nodded. “Kay.” She could read the concern in his voice. She wondered vaguely if the injury was really that bad, or if this was just Owen being protective of her like he was after the initial Jurassic incident. She shifted again in the seat, struggling to get comfortable. Thinking about the sharp ache in her leg only seemed to make it worse, so she tried to think about something else. Anything else.

_Owen_. It was like her thoughts were a heat-seeking missile, always somehow coming back to him. Even in the years they spent apart after the first incident, she found that if she let her mind wander it would eventually settle on him. Without Owen, Claire would never have been able to rescue her nephews on that fateful day. Without Owen, she doubted that she herself would have even survived. And they had stayed together for a while.  _For survival,_  he had said. Her heart ached as she recalled the day they parted ways.  _God Claire, why were you so stubborn,_  she scolded herself, frowning. But he had been just as stubborn as her, the day he drove away and never returned. She tried not to think about how badly she wanted to follow him. She wished now that she had.

Claire studied Owen now, brow wrinkled in a frown as he focused on the road, on the lookout for a motel. Claire rested her head gently against the headrest of her seat and closed her eyes. There was so much she wanted to talk to him about.  _So much_. Not the least of which was how they planned to take care of a little girl. But there would be plenty of time to talk after they had showered and rested.   
  
It had taken a little while to get from the isolated Lockwood estate to some semblance of civilization, but finally they were passing gas stations and fast food restaurants, and eventually a Motel 6. Owen parked near the office and went inside to book them a room.   
  
“Where's Owen?” came a soft, sleepy voice from the back seat.

“We’re stopping at a motel for the night to get some sleep,” Claire explained, turning to face the girl. “He’s inside getting us a room. You okay?” Maisie nodded, catching sight of Owen through the office window.  
  
Minutes later the three of them were walking into a small room with two double beds.   
  
It was decided that Owen would run out to the store and grab some essentials. Maisie stared at the door after he left, seemingly afraid he might not return.   
  
“He won’t be gone long,” Claire promised, marveling at how quickly she had taken to him. Then again, she completely understood. Owen had a way of putting you at ease, even in a high stress situation.   
  
The two of them sat next to each other on the edge of the bed furthest from the door. They sat in silence for a bit, Claire unsure how to make conversation with a scared little girl she barely knew.  _Owen’s better at this stuff_ , she thought. He had been so great with her nephews. Especially after the incident, with Gray, the younger and more traumatized of the two boys.   
  
Claire mentally chastised herself, for the thousandth time, for keeping a distance from her family for so long. She didn’t get to watch her nephews grow up, but at the time she had justified the Christmases spent alone on the island. She had a very important job that required her undivided attention, but it wouldn’t be that way forever. That’s what she told Karen, at least, knowing it wasn’t true. Claire was on top, running the most successful theme park in the world. There were no plans to slow down. She sighed, wondering how she ever could have put a job before her family.   
  
She wasn’t that person anymore, and she was doing what she could to make amends for the years of forgotten birthdays and unreturned calls. Maybe this little girl dropping into her lap was some kind of karmic justice.   
  
“So Maisie,” Claire said finally, breaking the silence. “How old are you?” She figured she’d start with the basics.   
  
“Nine,” Maisie said softly. “And a half.”   
  
“When’s your birthday?”   
  
“April 14th.”   
  
“What’s your favorite subject in school?” Claire continued.  
  
“Science,” Maisie said quickly. “I didn’t really go to school though,” she added.   
  
“Oh? Were you homeschooled?”   
  
Maisie nodded. “Iris taught me.”   
  
 _Iris_. Claire remembered her. She was the woman who had let her in to the Lockwood manor when she came to discuss the rescue mission. Or at least, what she thought was a rescue mission. But where was Iris now?   
  
“Maisie,” Claire started, choosing her words carefully. “Do you know where Iris is?”   
  
The little girl’s face fell as she shook her head. “She left after...” her eyes were welling up again as she struggled to get the words out. “Mr. Mills made her leave. She wanted to stay with me, but he made her.” Claire could feel the anger rising within her at the mention of Eli Mills.  _What if he tries to take Maisie?_  She shuddered at the thought, then pushed it to the back of her mind, adding it to the growing list of what she wanted to discuss with Owen.  
  
“Maybe we can find her,” Claire suggested. It would be nice to talk to someone who knew Maisie’s history. Maisie smiled ever so slightly at the suggestion, clearing the tears from her eyes with her fingers.   
  
“Claire?” Maisie said softly after a few beats of silence. Claire smiled. She liked the way her name sounded with Maisie’s adorable accent. “Can I ask you something?”   
  
“Of course,” Claire answered.   
  
“Are you and Owen married?”   
  
Claire blanched at such a direct question. “No,” she managed to answer, her face flushing red.   
  
“Why not?” Maisie prodded. Claire gaped, unsure of how to explain to the little girl what she and Owen were to each other. Hell,  _she_  didn’t even know what they were. “When people are in love, they get married,” Maisie continued. “Right?”   
  
“Right...” Claire answered cautiously.   
  
“And you love him, don’t you?” She asked innocently.   
  
“I...um...” Claire was struggling to get the words out. “Well you see...it’s...”  
  
“I’ve never really seen two people in love,” Maisie admitted. “Grandpa, Iris, and Mr. Mills were the only people I really saw often. But I read about love. Some of the books Iris made me read were boring, but one had a love story in it. I don’t think Iris knew that.” Claire thought she saw a smirk on the little girl’s face. Iris must have sheltered the girl somewhat, she realized. “I liked that one,” Maisie continued, “you and Owen, you remind me of the characters who were in love.”  
  
Claire genuinely didn’t know how to respond to the little girl’s inquiry. She loved him. She knew that. She’s loved him since they kissed on Main Street in Jurassic World as it fell around them. Maybe even since before then... And after all this time and all that had happened to drive them apart, she still loved him. Why was it so hard to say it out loud? Maybe because she wasn’t sure he felt the same way.  
  
“It’s complicated,” Claire finally managed to say. “Love is really complicated.” She studied the girl, who seemed dissatisfied with her cop-out answer. “Owen will be back any minute,” Claire pointed out, changing the subject. “Why don’t we get you in the shower so you’ll be nice and clean when your new pajamas get here?” Claire held out her hand.   
  
Maisie nodded her agreement, taking Claire’s outstretched hand and letting her lead her to the room’s tiny bathroom.   
  
Claire started the water, adjusting the knobs until the temperature was just right. She looked at Maisie. “Do you need help?” She couldn’t remember exactly how she had been at Maisie’s age, but she figured she probably wouldn’t have wanted anyone to see her without clothes on. Definitely not a stranger.  
  
Maisie shook her head right away. “I can do it.”  
  
“Okay,” the redhead said with a nod. “Water’s warm, but not too hot. Shampoo is in the shower. I’ll be right out there on the bed if you need anything. Kay?” Maisie nodded.  
  
As Claire slipped out the bathroom door and shut it behind her, Owen was entering the small hotel room.   
  
Claire let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding at the sight of him.   
  
“Everything okay?” He asked. She nodded.  
  
“She’s in the shower.”   
  
“How’s your leg?”   
  
“Hurts,” Claire admitted. “Let’s get Maisie into bed, then you can take a look.” Owen nodded, setting the bags down on the bed nearest the door.   
  
“Owen, you’re back!” Maisie said excitedly a few minutes later. The two turned to see the little girl poking her head out the bathroom door, wet hair plastered to her head, and a towel wrapped tightly around her.   
  
“I’m back, with the comfiest PJs Walmart has to offer,” Owen joked.  “Do you like Frozen?” he asked the little girl, reaching into one of the bags.   
  
“Food?” Maisie questioned, cocking her head to the side slightly.  
   
Claire and Owen exchanged glances, and Claire began to realize that the word “sheltered” probably didn’t even begin to describe Maisie’s childhood.   
  
“Here, try these on,” Owen said after a moment, pulling a pale blue pajama set out of the bag. Claire could see a smiling Elsa on the front of the shirt, the pants speckled with small white snowflakes.   
  
Maisie seemed to approve, taking the pajamas and disappearing behind the bathroom door. Owen reached into the bag again and revealed a mint green tank top and matching green plaid pajama shorts. Claire had to chuckle, he had always loved her in green.   
  
“Thanks,” Claire said as he handed her items to her. They were kind of cute, she had to admit.   
  
Maisie emerged from the bathroom as Owen was handing Claire a hair brush. She was impressed he had thought to pick one up. “Here, let’s brush out some of those tangles,” Claire offered the little girl. She patted the spot next to her on the bed.   
  
Claire ran the brush through Maisie’s long, dark hair as gently as she could. “Am I hurting you?” she asked frequently, terrified of causing her any pain. Each time she asked, the little girl assured her she wasn’t.  
  
“You’re much gentler than Iris, actually,” Maisie said at one point. Claire couldn’t help but smile, happy she had at least done one thing right.   
  
Owen offered to tuck Maisie in to bed so Claire could get started on her shower, to which she happily obliged. Stepping into the bathroom, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and cringed. She looked… well, like she’d been running from dinosaurs. She laid her clean pajamas on the sink and pulled the elastic band out of her hair, letting her red-orange locks fall onto her shoulders. Swiftly she pulled her shirt over her head and unclasped her bra, letting it fall to the floor. She unbuttoned her cargo pants and then hesitated, bracing herself. Dried blood had caused the fabric to stick fast to her leg. Slowly and carefully Claire peeled her right pant leg down, grimacing as the fabric brushed over the wound.    
  
After turning on the water, she gathered the pile of dirty clothing on the floor and shoved it into the small trash can next to the toilet. 

Stepping under the warm stream of water, she felt the tension in her whole body immediately release. Water trickled down her thigh and into the deep cut, making her whimper in pain, but she almost didn’t care. It felt so good to wash all the dirt, sweat, and blood from her body and watch it spiral around the drain. She watched until the water swirled clear below her and she finally felt clean. Claire could have stood beneath the comforting warmth for hours, but instead she finished as quickly as she could so there would be hot water left for Owen.

She emerged from the bathroom a short while later, clad in her little green tank top and shorts. She caught sight of Owen’s eyes on her braless chest before he quickly averted them, and she felt a familiar warmth rush to her cheeks.

“She’s asleep,” he whispered, getting up slowly from the edge of the bed Maisie was resting peacefully in.

“Good,” Claire whispered back, patting her hair dry with a towel. She took a few steps closer to the bed and for a few moments just watched Maisie’s chest rise and fall, the rhythm slow and even. “Did you…” Claire started. She frowned, stepping a little closer to get a better look in the dark. “Did you braid her hair?” Her eyebrows raised slightly as a small smile played at her lips. She flicked her gaze to Owen, perched on the edge of the other bed.

“Oh, yeah,” Owen said casually. “She said she wished her hair looked like the girl on her shirt. I was pretty sure I remembered how to do it, so I thought what the hell?”

“Owen Grady can french braid,” Claire stated, incredulous. She was unable to conceal the amusement in her voice. Owen just shrugged.

“Have you considered there might be a lot you don’t know about me, Miss Dearing?” His retort was playful, and for a moment Claire was transported back to a time when they both worked at Jurassic World and he would tease her mercilessly.  _God I think I loved him even then_ , Claire realized.

Owen busied himself searching through the Walmart bags, pulling out some gauze and antiseptic moments later. He started toward the tiny bathroom. “Step into my office,” he said, nodding for Claire to follow him.

“Shower first,” Claire offered, knowing how much better she felt after washing away all the grime from her body. “I left you some hot water.”

“If you insist,” Owen said with a shrug, then he slipped into the bathroom.

Claire carefully lowered herself onto the edge of the bed where Owen had been sitting. She tried not to look at the wound on her leg, which seemed even deeper now that the dried blood had been washed away. Instead she cast her gaze toward Maisie, watching her slow and even breathing once more. She felt relieved that the little girl was able to relax enough to fall asleep.

When they had first come into the hotel room and Claire saw the two double beds, she wondered if she’d be sharing with Maisie or Owen. Seeing Maisie sprawled out right smack in the middle of the bed farthest from the door, she got her answer. She rolled her eyes, knowing there was a good chance Owen had put her there purposely. But at the same time, she couldn’t say she really minded.

Owen showered and dressed quickly, then opened the door slightly to signal Claire to join him. She scooped up the supplies on the bed and hobbled over to the bathroom, Owen grabbing her by the arm and gently guiding her toward the toilet. He closed the lid and helped her ease herself down onto the seat.

“Does it look really bad?” Claire asked, noticing him surveying the wound.

“It’s pretty deep,” Owen admitted. He was knelt at her feet, his fingertips resting gently on her thigh as he took in the damage. “It probably needed to be stitched hours ago. It’ll heal just fine though,” he added, “as long as we keep it clean and get you some antibiotics. Just might leave a scar.”  

Claire snorted in amusement. After everything she’d been through, a two inch scar on her leg was literally the last thing she was concerned about. Scars were kind of sexy anyway weren’t they? At least, they were on Owen. He had several on his back and torso, some from the Jurassic incident, others from his time in the Navy. Claire could remember many nights lying next to him in the dark, tracing the scars with her fingers over and over.

“Scars are pretty sexy though,” Owen said with a wink, echoing her thoughts. Claire rolled her eyes at him, but secretly she was happy he thought so.

“This is gonna sting,” Owen said apologetically, grabbing the bottle of antiseptic off the sink.

Claire took a deep breath. “Do it.” She closed her eyes and bit down on her bottom lip, bracing herself. She tried not to think about Owen’s firm grip on her inner thigh. Slowly he tipped the bottle of hydrogen peroxide, pouring a small amount into the open cut.

It was all Claire could do not to cry out in anguish as the liquid made contact with the open wound, burning like acid. And she would have too, because she swore this hurt just as bad as the claw piercing her flesh. But the last thing Maisie needed was to wake up to her screaming.

“You’re okay,” Owen said sweetly, gently dabbing at the wound with some gauze. And after a few seconds, Claire felt the stinging begin to subside. Owen dabbed until he had soaked up all the excess liquid and foam escaping from the cut. 

“Owen,” Claire started as he reached for a bandage on the sink. She had wanted to wait and talk after they both rested, but dozens of thoughts, questions, what ifs, were flooding her mind as she watched him gingerly cover her cut with a bandage. They were threatening to bubble out from her mouth, like the antiseptic had bubbled out of her wound as she kept her eyes on his hands. Hands that she knew were tough and strong, but so gentle now as he carefully pressed the bandage in place. 

And yet, with everything she knew she wanted to say to him, she couldn’t form the words. Until finally she settled on a “thanks for patching me up.”

“Any time,” Owen answered, getting to his feet. Before she knew what was happening, she felt his lips pressing a warm kiss to her forehead. “Shit,” she heard him say. “I’m sorry, it was just a...”

“Habit,” she finished, looking up at him. “It’s okay.” He nodded, but looked embarrassed.

But she understood. She couldn’t deny the flutter of excitement she felt when he had gripped her inner thigh minutes earlier. He was only trying to steady her leg, but her mind had threatened to recall memories of the two of them that would make her cheeks match the color of her hair. They were apart for quite a while, but being thrust back together, and in another life or death situation no less, made it so tempting to fall back into their old ways. 

“We should get some sleep,” Owen suggested, already helping her to her feet. Claire suddenly realized how exhausted she truly was. She let Owen lead her toward the empty bed, then carefully slid beneath the covers, perhaps instinctively choosing the side of the bed closest to Maisie. 

Owen slid in next to her, and she could tell he was being extra careful not to bump her leg. He laid far enough from her to not make it awkward, but close enough that she could feel his warmth. 

“Night Claire,” he whispered.

“Night,” she mumbled back, sleep already overcoming her.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting chapter two already since I had it written and posted on tumblr. Chapter 3 is in the works!

He was underwater, his eyes burning more severely with each passing second. His whole body hurt from hitting the water at such high speed. There was a moment of confusion until he remembered his mission.

_Claire._

He didn’t see her at first, then finally he spotted the gyrosphere yards away. He was already struggling to hold his breath, but he pressed on anyway until he reached her. She was alone inside, the water already waist high. Her palms were pressed flat against the glass. There was fear in her eyes, her face ghostly pale. She was thinking she might not make it, he realized.

_Gun._ He remembered the gun on his belt and quickly pulled it out of its holster. Claire moved away from the glass before he fired one shot, then two. Before he could fire off a third shot, something clocked him from behind, and then the gun was falling. He couldn’t go for it, he needed air. He looked into her eyes, silently promising he would come back for her. She still had air, and he prayed it was enough as he rose to the surface.

When he made it back to the gyrosphere she was already submerged. He pulled at the edge of the glass with his fingers as she kicked from the inside. He grabbed his knife from his pocket, desperately trying to pry open the glass door. It wouldn’t budge.

She stopped kicking. She only looked at him, shaking her head.

“I love you.” He couldn’t hear her, but he could read her lips.  

“No!” He tried to scream, but the words barely made a sound under the water. Frantically he pulled at the glass, never taking his eyes off her.

And then her body started to convulse, and he watched in horror as the light behind her eyes dissipated. And then it was gone.

“No!!” He screamed, but this time he could hear himself. He breathed in, expecting to fill his lungs with water but only finding air. He felt pressure on his chest, like someone was pushing him.

“Owen,” came a soft voice. “Owen, you’re okay.”

He opened his eyes, and there she was. Breathing, and completely dry. Her mint green eyes shone in the moonlight, full of life.

“Claire,” he breathed, his chest heaving. 

“I’m right here,” she answered, and he felt her hand clasp around his. “It’s okay, you’re safe.” 

_I’m safe?_ Owen’s thoughts echoed her words.  _Fuck that,_ he thought.  _You’re safe, and that’s all that matters._ Slowly his shallow breaths were returning to a normal pace.

“You were having a nightmare,” Claire told him. She was so close to him now, Owen unsure if it was because of his yelling and thrashing, or if she had drifted toward him in her sleep.  

“Did I wake Maisie?” Owen asked, remembering the little girl. Claire turned to look over her shoulder. 

“No, she’s asleep,” she promised. 

“I”m sorry I woke you.” 

“You didn’t,” Claire admitted, laying her head back down on her pillow. 

“Nightmare?” Owen asked. She nodded. “Wanna talk about it?”

“You first,” she said as she turned onto her side to face him. 

Owen took a deep breath. “It was the gyrosphere. I didn’t…” he trailed off, trying to forget the image of her lifeless body floating inside the glass ball. “I didn’t get it open in time.”

“Oh,” she said softly, a hint of surprise in her voice.

Suddenly Owen felt embarrassed. They weren’t even together, so why should his nightmare be about losing her?

“Tell me about your dream,” he whispered.

“It was the Indoraptor,” she started. “I was running as fast as I could, but with my leg slowing me down I didn’t make it to the roof in time before…” She trailed off, and he thought he heard a trace of embarrassment in her voice. 

Owen had to smile at her admission, happy he wasn’t the only one scared of losing the other.

“How  _did_  you make it up there on that leg?” he wondered. 

“Adrenaline,” she said simply. 

“Well I’m glad you did,” Owen said seriously, his eyes meeting hers. “Maisie and I wouldn’t have made it without you.” 

“I would have drowned without you,” Claire pointed out. “Maybe you failed in your dream, but when it counted…you were there.” Owen could see her eyes turn glassy in the dim light. “Thank you,” she added quietly.   

“Bet it put you off swimming for good though,” Owen said, trying to lighten the mood. 

“God,” Claire said with a laugh, brushing the moisture from her eyes. “If I never see a pool again it’ll be too soon.” 

Owen chuckled softly to himself. He felt sleep slowly creeping in, and he let himself succumb to it. He slept, dreamless, until streams of light from the window were waking him hours later. Owen reached absentmindedly for Claire’s hand, but his fingers only brushed the empty sheets.

“Claire,” Owen said, jolting fully awake. He sat up quickly, and turned to discover her across the room. She was sitting near the edge of Maisie’s bed, back against the head rest and legs stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankles. He noticed the little girl had fallen asleep with her head in Claire’s lap, and watched as the redhead stroked Maisie’s hair gently as she slumbered. 

“Nightmare,” Claire whispered, then a shrug. Immediately Owen felt guilty that he hadn’t heard Maisie, and that Claire had to be the one to settle her. Knowing she had already done that for him through the night, Owen realized she probably didn’t get much sleep. He gave her an apologetic look, to which she mouthed “its okay.”

Owen could sense that Maisie made Claire feel a bit uneasy. He remembered how hard on herself she was about everything her nephews went through, and he remembered her swearing to him over and over that she was never having kids. Yet as he watched her with Maisie, he could tell she was right for this. Maybe there was some kind of maternal instinct in every woman that would activate automatically if the situation called for it. At least that’s what it seemed like to Owen, having witnessed Claire’s behavior since the little girl was thrust into their lives. The way she clung to Maisie when Mills tried to take her. Or the way she held her as she cried silently for her grandfather on the front steps of the mansion. Or the way she was gently stroking her hair now, perhaps not even realizing she was doing it. She was meant for this, and Owen hoped she could see that. If she couldn’t… well he would just have to show her, he decided. 

Owen slipped out of bed and began to rummage through the Walmart bags from his trip the previous night, now spread out on the coffee table. In trying to make the trip as fast as possible, he had limited his food choices to whatever was stocked at the check out. Poptarts were what’s for breakfast, and he was pretty sure Claire was going to hate that. In one of the bags he caught sight of the tiny flip phone he had purchased and then completely forgotten about last night. It was one of those prepaid ones. He pulled it out of the bag and began to rip open the packaging.

Owen glanced up at Claire to find her with eyes wide and jaw dropped, pointing at the phone in his hand.

“You’ve had a phone this whole time?” she hissed, incredulous.

He cringed, realizing that phone calls to loved ones maybe should have been prioritized ahead of sleep. But last night he was so focused on getting Claire’s wound cleaned, and between that and the exhaustion, he completely spaced.

“Sorry,” he whispered back. In all fairness, any news that may have gotten out had probably only recently broken within the past few hours. He hadn’t told anyone ahead of time about the trip, and he doubted Claire had either. Their loved ones will not have been worrying for too long. He hoped. 

He crossed the room to where Claire and Maisie were on the bed and offered Claire the phone.

“Go ahead,” she told him, glancing down at Maisie, still asleep in her lap. 

Owen nodded, but he felt bad. Claire was constantly putting everyone else’s needs before her own throughout this entire ordeal, he realized. But he had to smile as he turned from her. If that wasn’t the most “mom” thing in the world, he didn’t know what was.

He stepped outside the room onto the outdoor walkway that overlooked the parking lot and dialed his mother’s number. He was leaning against the railing, wondering what exactly we was going to say to her. When she picked up he decide to summarize the events of the past 48 hours as briefly as he could while sparing the gory details, assuring her he was fine. She asked if Claire was with him, because of course she would. His mom always liked Claire, from the very beginning. Always said she was much better for him than any of his other girlfriends, and she was right. He admitted that she was with him, and promised she was safe too.

Moments later he was back inside the room, handing Claire the phone. She got up slowly, replacing her thigh with a pillow under Maisie’s head. Owen sat down where Claire had been and watched her bare feet pad softly across the room and out the door.

“Where’s Claire?” a soft, sleepy voice asked a few minutes later. Maisie was sitting up now. 

“She’s okay,” Owen assured her. “She just stepped outside to call her family.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Owen silently cursed himself for saying them to a little girl who had no family to call. Maisie only nodded, a faraway look in her eyes. 

“Do you like Poptarts?” Owen asked, changing the subject. 

“What’s a Poptart?” 

Owen chuckled lightly to himself as he dug through the store bags and pulled out a box of frosted brown sugar cinnamon Poptarts, his favorite flavor growing up. Having Maisie around was like having a martian, he realized, remembering that she had never heard of Frozen. He wondered how exactly a nine year old girl in the United States could not know what Frozen was.

“These are gonna change your life,” Owen told the little girl, handing her a pair of Poptarts wrapped in foil. Maisie frowned, studying the packaging for a moment before ripping it open. 

“Well?” Owen asked after she had taken a bite. He was opening his own package now. 

“Not bad,” Maisie said with a shrug. 

“They’re better if you toast them,” Owen said defensively after taking a bite himself.

He glanced at the clock on the nightstand between the two beds, wondering what was taking Claire so long. He couldn’t hear her muffled voice through the thin hotel room walls anymore, and thought he should check on her.  

“Wanna watch TV?” Owen asked the little girl. He thought maybe if she was occupied, he and Claire could finally have a serious discussion. He flicked on the tiny television perched on a TV stand in a corner of the room and flipped through the channels until he came across something animated. Maisie seated herself on the edge of her bed, munching on her Poptarts and already engrossed in whatever cartoon was on. 

Owen took the opportunity to slip out the door, leaving it open just a crack in case Maisie needed anything. Claire was right outside the door, facing away from it. He couldn’t help but notice how good her ass looked in those tiny pajama shorts, which, admittedly he knew it would when he picked them out. She was off the phone, elbows resting against the railing.

“You okay?” Owen asked, standing next to her now. 

“Owen, what are we doing,” she said with a sigh, more of a statement than a question. Her eyes seemed to focus on something far away.

_Now that’s a loaded question,_  Owen thought. He didn’t even know how to begin to answer it. He suspected she had been talking with her sister, Karen, who always seemed to know how to ruffle her feathers.

“I heard you tell the police Maisie’s your daughter.” She was looking at him square on now, eyebrows raised.

“Sorry,” Owen said with a shrug. “ _Our_ daughter.” He couldn’t prevent the smug smiled that creeped onto his face as she rolled her eyes at him. 

If he had to guess, Owen would say that Claire Dearing had rolled her eyes at him probably a thousand times since they’d met. But what he had come to learn was that sometimes eye rolls where how she said “I love you.” She used to actually say it to him of course, back when they were together. But sometimes there was just an eye roll, as if telling him that she loved him in spite of the fact that he was such an ass, and that he was lucky she put up with him. He was still kind of an ass, he knew that. But did she still love him in spite of it? Part of him was sure she did, while another part of him thought there was no way she could anymore.  _Idiot,_ Owen thought, mentally chastising himself for being stupid enough to ever let go of what they had.

In his nightmare, Claire had professed her love to him in her last dying moments. And it had seemed so  _real_. But that was just him projecting how he wanted her to feel about him, he realized.

_But the kiss,_  he reminded himself, thinking back to Claire in that display case. She was injured, unable to run and she had to know she didn’t stand a chance alone against the Indoraptor. Yet she sent him away anyway to save the little girl they had just met, sending him off with a passionate kiss. He wanted so badly to ask what that kiss meant. He kept quiet at first, afraid of what she might tell him if he asked. But… he had to know.

_Fuck it._

“When you kissed me,” Owen blurted out before he lost his courage. Claire shifted uncomfortably next to him, and Owen could see the heat on her cheeks. “Was that real?” Claire was looking anywhere but at him. “Or were you just thinking that we might not make it?”

His words hung in the air so long, he wondered if he had actually said them out loud. 

Claire took a deep breath. “Real,” she answered wistfully, finally lifting her gaze to meet his. He studied her expression. She didn’t seem uneasy, as she had when he first sprung the question on her. She looked almost relieved now, like she’d finally divulged a secret she never knew was weighing on her. 

“Good,” Owen said quietly, unable to prevent the smile that slowly creeped across his face. 

“I thought…” Claire started, struggling to find the words. “I knew there was a chance we might never see each other again, if things got out of hand,” she continued. “I wanted your last memory of me to be a good one.” She hesitated before adding, “I wanted you to know I still love you.” 

And there it was. Owen’s heart felt so full he thought it might explode out of his chest. There were tears in her eyes now, and in the bright daylight they looked more blue than green. 

“Claire,” Owen started, but she cut him off.

“It’s okay, if you don’t…” 

“No, Claire I do,” Owen assured her, taking both her hands in his. He hated that she didn’t know that. “God I love you so much.” The words were tumbling out now and Owen was unable to stop them, nor did he want to. “I never stopped loving you, Claire. And when you told me you were going back to that island, damn, the thought of you being there again, in danger…” He was struggling to put into words just how scared he was that anything might happen to her. “I went for you, Claire, not for Blue.” Owen paused to take a breath, letting the weight of his last sentence settle. Blue meant the world to him, and Claire knew that. But she meant even more to him. Tears were trickling down her cheeks now, and  _God_  she looked so stunning even when she cried. “I love you more than anything else in this world,” Owen continued. He paused before adding, “I mean, besides beer.” Her eyes widened, mouth gaping open at his typical “ruin the moment” joke. “I’m kidding, geez,” Owen promised her. “I love you just as much as I love beer,” he added playfully. And that got the smallest of laughs from her.

“God you’re an ass,” she said, shaking her head. 

For a moment they stood in silence, eyes locked on to each other. Owen reached for a tear that had stopped about half way down Claire’s cheek, wiping it away with his thumb. His hands were cupped around her face. He leaned in, eyes closed, lips almost brushing hers, but stopped short at the sound coming from inside the hotel room.

“Maisie,” she whispered onto his lips. Eyes snapping open, they rushed through the door.


End file.
